If we focus on whether Michelle Carter's text messages drove her boyfriend to kill himself, we miss the bigger picture

Content note: This piece includes descriptions of self-harm that some may find distressing

On 13 July 2014, 18-year-old Conrad Roy III killed himself in the parking lot of a department store in Fairhaven, Massachusetts. Almost three years later, on 16 June 2017, a judge found Michelle Carter, with whom Roy had engaged into a largely text-based relationship prior to his death, guilty of involuntary manslaughter, on the basis that she had encouraged him toward suicide in text messages.

Carter, who was 17 at the time of Roy’s suicide and 20 when she was convicted, was sentenced to 15 months behind bars for her actions.

A new documentary titled I Love You, Now Die, released on HBO on 9 and 10 July, documents the story of the case. It spans from Carter and Roy’s first meeting to Carter’s sentencing, and it's a complicated ride. Erin Lee Carr paints a full and nuanced picture of Roy and Carter’s relationship – and in doing so, uncovers parts of their dynamic that without a doubt should have been granted more attention in court.

The documentary also shows how prosecutors set out to portray Carter as a manipulative, attention-craving teenager who decided that the role of the "grieving girlfriend" would gain her popularity points in school. That's why, the prosecution insisted, Michelle Carter decided her boyfriend had to die.

From the get-go, Carter, a thin, blonde, blue-eyed teenager who dressed smartly during her court dates, was perfect tabloid fodder. And who wouldn’t shudder with horror at the girl who sent her suicidal boyfriend heinous texts such as “Drink bleach”, “Why don’t you just drink bleach”, and “Hang yourself jump off a building stab yourself idk there’s lots of ways”?

One of the most striking sequences of Carr’s documentary comes when a woman, amid Carter’s trial, stops to talk about the case with a documentary-maker and tells the camera: “I’ve never met the girl but I’ve seen pictures of her. She just has that look that I remember. I see that look and it’s like, ‘You little snot, how could you do that to a human being, you 90210 piece of crap?’” Incensed, the woman continues: “If I was on the jury, I’d say yeah, go ahead, your parents aren’t going to miss you if you’re in Framingham [a detention facility for female inmates] for the next 30 years. See you later, bye! I swear to God. To me, this is evil. And where does evil come from? I don’t know.”

In an archive Dr Oz segment, Conrad Roy’s mother is seen telling Mehmet Oz, the surgeon and television star: “I believe some people have no soul, no conscience” – a line which resonates even more once you consider Carter’s case was taking place in Massachusetts, the same place that executed 14 women for "witchcraft" in the 17th century.

Throughout the documentary, we learn that Carter was diagnosed with an eating disorder when she was just 10 years old. We then learn that she was prescribed psychiatric medication since the age of 14 and that, according to a medical expert who testified in the case, she had suicidal thoughts herself that she came very close to putting into action.

The way the documentary tells it, Conrad Roy’s parents had recently gone through an acrimonious divorce that involved allegations of domestic violence. Roy himself once reported an incident to authorities, telling them his father had allegedly “punched [him] repeatedly and pinned [him] down”. Asked about the report, Roy’s father tells Carr’s camera that he was “being a parent”, that “things got out of control”, that he and his son “both fought each other”, and that he would “do it again just like that”.

We learn that Roy and Carter’s relationship was disturbing in more ways than one. We learn that Roy attempted suicide at least four times before his death, and extensively discussed his suicidal ideation with Carter. In one exchange, Roy and Carter each claim to have seen the devil, and Roy types: “He was at the hospital one night staring at me and he told me to kill them all.” In another conversation, Roy tells Carter: “We should be like Romeo and Juliet at the end”, and she initially replies: “Haha I’d love to be your Juliet :)”. Roy continues: “But do you know what happens at the end” — assumedly referring to the two lovers’ suicides — to which Carter writes back: “OH YEAH F*** NO! WE ARE NOT DYING.”

Roy and Carter apparently shared a fascination for tales of doomed love and star-crossed lovers. One of the most bizarre revelations in the documentary – one that points to delusional thinking on the parts of both teens – is that Carter pulled lines from the TV show Glee, as well as from interviews by the show’s star Lea Michele, in her texts to Roy.

Crucially, we also learn that there is no solid evidence to show that Carter actually told Roy to get back in his truck as it was filling with carbon monoxide – a key factor in the judge’s decision to convict her of involuntary manslaughter.

What comes out of the documentary is the feeling that Carter’s texts to Roy, while inconceivable to most grown adults, were one part of a much larger, much darker picture. The judge himself seems to doubt his own decision to convict Carter, as he swiftly points out that “the wisdom of the appellate court will be of instruction now and going forward”. It's clear that this is a case of the likes few have ever seen.

Our culture is eager to assign teenage girls more power than they actually have. It does so through tropes such as the "mean girl", the "queen bee", or even the disgraced outcast who decides to get revenge on those who are more popular than her.

Teenage girls, we are told, are obsessed with their social standing, have a strong sense of agency, a mysterious ability to wield power over their male peers, and will stop at almost nothing to get what they want. But I remember being a teenage girl, and there was nothing powerful about it. I remember being told to watch out for how my behaviour might hurt others while feeling as though my own feelings didn’t matter. I remember being a child trying to find my place in the world while having no clue how said world worked. I remember feeling lost, frustrated and scared more often than not. My memories are so far removed from the image of the teenage girl as elusive, alluring and controlling that I can’t even begin to fathom how that mythology originated.

Naturally, I absolutely cannot fathom telling someone to “drink bleach”, or to urge them to end their own lives in any capacity, either. But I’m not a 17-year-old girl with serious mental health issues taking psychiatric drugs. What Michelle Carter did certainly was immoral, but should it count as criminal? I don’t know.

In any case, I highly doubt that being incarcerated is the best way to give Carter access to the treatment she so evidently needs. I am left wondering, too, how two teenagers felt so unsure of their place that they felt drama, despair and darkness was inevitable. I am left wondering why talk about suicide and death was so frequent between them that it became colloquial.

This is what the story of Roy’s death should have been about — instead, it became all about Michelle Carter’s texts. If we’re ever going to learn anything constructive about the Commonwealth v Michelle Carter case, we need to start looking way beyond that.